Villains Don't Get Happy Endings
by lizardmm
Summary: It had been her sacrifice—the price she had to pay. Save everyone she had cursed for 28 years while simultaneously losing the one person she loved the most. Villains, after all, didn't get a Happy Ending. That was reserved for Princesses and Saviors. A 'what if' story where it's Regina, not Hook, who visits Emma in NYC at the beginning of 3B.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hey everybody! I'm back at it! I'm at the halfway point of my next original novel, but these two keep dancing around in my head, bickering and bantering and demanding that this story be written. Updates might be a little slower because I'm simultaneously working on the novel and fanfiction, but hopefully the time between posting chapters won't deter you from following this story.

**A/N2:** Let's pretend that at the beginning of 3B, people who try to cross the town line don't get turned into flying monkeys.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

_New York City, New York_

Regina stared at her reflection in the rearview mirror of her black Mercedes. She told herself that she was only doing this for Henry. There was no harm in checking in on him to make sure he was happy and had everything he would ever want or need. She wouldn't talk to them; she'd keep her distance and no one would ever know she'd been here. They wouldn't even know who she was anyway if either of them spotted her—she'd made sure of that when she'd sent her son away with his birth mother while she broke the curse that sent everyone back to the Enchanted Forest.

It had been her sacrifice—the price she had to pay. Save everyone she had cursed for 28 years in Storybrooke while simultaneously losing the one person she loved the most. Villains, after all, didn't get a Happy Ending. That was reserved for Princesses and Saviors.

Regina lightly slapped her hand against the leather steering column. Even now she couldn't bring herself to hate Emma, even though from the moment the blonde had driven that yellow tin can of a car into her town she'd done nothing but dismantle everything Regina had worked so tirelessly to create for herself. And now Emma possessed the two things Regina wanted the most: a second chance and Henry.

The only good thing to come from the second curse was this window of opportunity. Yes, she couldn't remember the last year of her life, and yes, she had to team up with the insufferable Charmings to figure out how and why they were back in Storybrooke, but it now afforded her this time during which she might see her son again.

Snow had been the one who'd actually suggested it. Even when they'd been banished to the Enchanted Forest, she and David had never faltered in their faith that one day they'd be reunited with their daughter and grandson. That tiny flicker of hope had remained alive even in Regina's blackened heart thanks to Snow's eternal optimism.

It had taken Regina some time, and she'd exhausted nearly all of her resources, but she'd managed to track Emma and Henry down to a modest two-bedroom apartment in New York City. She didn't know why Emma had chosen New York—she'd assumed she would have returned to Boston, the city Henry had first tracked her down to. But maybe the central ingredient in getting a second chance was to completely divorce yourself from your past, even geographically.

Regina chewed on the inside of her cheek and her grip on the steering wheel tightened when she saw her son walking out of the main doors of his school, talking to some boys she recognized as members of his soccer team. He had friends here. That realization alone had nearly made her cry. Even under the original curse, Henry had been an outsider in Storybrooke. That his mother was the formidable mayor and later the Evil Queen hadn't done much for her son's social life.

Emma's yellow Bug had yet to arrive, so Henry sat down on the concrete steps that led up to his school. Regina slumped down in the driver's seat so she could watch him without being detected. Henry pulled a portable gaming device from his backpack—a mindless toy Regina had only caved into buying him when she'd felt threatened by the novelty of his birth mother's existence. If she'd had her way, Henry would have never known trans fats, high fructose sugar, or violent video games. But he was a teenager now, and teenage boys seemed to run on those things.

Too much time passed, and Regina began to grow angry. She hadn't given up Henry only for him to be forgotten at school. Emma was late. She always picked Henry up from school on her way home from a small bail bondsperson office near Central Park. Regina began to plan the verbal lashing she would give Miss Swan whenever she decided to show up. She glanced at the clock on her dashboard—_if _Emma ever showed up.

When she returned her attention back to Henry, the boy was stashing his Game Boy into his backpack and slinging the bag over one shoulder. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his grey wool jacket and began to walk.

Regina's eyes followed her son as he began the trek home. "Henry," she chastised aloud, "do you really think you're going to walk all the way home by yourself in one of the most dangerous cities in all the realms?" She shook her head. "No. You most certainly are not."

She grabbed her purse off the passenger seat and threw her car keys inside. She regarded her reflection once more in the rearview mirror. "Stay far enough away," she couched herself, "and he'll never know you were here."

The heels of her designer boots clicked on the concrete. The sidewalks were filled with young professionals on their way home from work, forcing Regina to dodge and weave around clusters of people to keep up with Henry's brisk walk. Henry continued to play his game console as he walked. He barely looked up from the screen as he traveled the busy New York sidewalks. Regina could have been walking next to him and he wouldn't have even noticed, she mused to herself.

She had to admit there was a certain charm to this city in wintertime. The sun was starting to set, and young trees filled with tiny white twinkle lights lined either side of the street. She buried her hands deeper into the pockets of her wool trench coat and tucked her chin into her chest to stave off a brisk wind.

Henry made a right turn down a narrow alley—a short cut perhaps. A frown came to Regina's painted lips. It appeared as though they were in a moderately safe neighborhood, but the detour seemed to invite unnecessary trouble. This wasn't Storybrooke.

Regina jerked to a stop when she saw Henry had stopped. A man, tall and broad shoulders, stood in her son's way. He wore a black knit cap and a grey hooded sweatshirt. Regina hastened her step. She didn't like the look of the man or that he was talking to Henry. As she closed the distance, she could hear their conversation.

"Hand it over, kid. You don't wanna get hurt over some toy. Your Mommy and Daddy will buy you a new one."

"No they will not."

It took Regina a moment to recognize the bold voice as her own.

Both Henry and the man turned in Regina's direction. The man's eyes narrowed. "Keep walkin' lady. This ain't your business," he said in a thick New York accent.

"I'm afraid it's very much my business," Regina returned coolly.

She pulled a gloved hand out of her jacket pocket. She held her hand palm up and her fingers curled. But nothing happened. No fireball hovered over her hand. There was no magic in this place.

Regina looked up in alarm.

The man chuckled darkly. "Looks like I get two bags for the price of one. Hand it over, sister."

Regina took mental inventory of the possessions in her purse as she clutched it tightly against her chest. The keys to her Mercedes, still parked outside of Henry's school. Her wallet and credit cards. A tube of her favorite lipstick. Her cell phone. The keycard to her hotel room in Manhattan.

"Take my Game Boy," Henry said. He shoved the handheld devise into the man's hands. "You don't need to steal from her, too."

Even without magic, Regina refused to be afraid. She had leveled a kingdom, destroyed whole cities, and brought powerful men to their knees. There was no way a common thief was going to get the upper hand on the Evil Queen. She pulled herself to her full height and lifted a defiant chin.

"I suggest _you _keep walking and leave us be," she challenged the man. She took a daring step forward. Her heels sounded like gunshots on the pavement.

Regina cried out when the man lunged forward and snatched the purse from her grip. She heard a tearing noise as the handle of her bag ripped out of her hands.

"You idiot!" she growled. "You unwashed imbecile!" Anger bubbled just beneath the surface. She would destroy this man, magic or not.

"Stop right there."

Regina froze at the familiar voice. The threatening man did as well.

Emma Swan stood at the entrance of the alley with her long legs a shoulder's width apart. The ridiculous red leather jacket was gone, but the skin-tight jeans tucked into brown leather boots were the same. She trained her gun on the would-be mugger. "Drop it," she barked.

"Let's not do anything crazy," the man said, slowly raising his arms up.

"Then drop the purse," Emma's voice rose in pitch and in annoyance.

The failed thief underhanded the purse in Emma's direction. When she lowered her weapon to catch the flying bag, the mugger ran off while her attention was otherwise preoccupied.

"He's getting away!" Henry yelled.

Emma's body twitched with indecision. Her training as a bail bondsperson told her to run after the bad guy, but her maternal instinct demanded she stay put. Henry was here, and he was safe, and that was all that mattered.

"It's okay," she settled on. "Let him go."

Henry threw his arms around Emma's waist. "Ma! This lady tried to save me from being mugged!" He hesitated and looked momentarily thoughtful. "And then you saved her!"

Emma regarded the dark-haired woman. "You did that?" she asked in wonder. "You tried to help my son?"

"I was just in the right place at the right time." Regina cast her eyes to the pavement. It was hard for her to look Emma or Henry in the eyes and not see any recognition reflected there. "Anyone would have done the same."

"Not in _this_ city," Emma observed with a snort. "You could be bleeding out in the middle of Times Square and be hard pressed to find someone willing to help. Thank you."

Regina finally looked up and instantly regretted it. She bit the inside of her lower lip. Emma's green-eyed stare had her frozen to the concrete. "You're welcome."

Emma looked down at the designer purse now safe in her hands. "I never understood these things. It's like walking around with a flashing neon sign. 'Come rob me! I have money!'"

Regina stiffened, but didn't say anything. She could get away with scathing banter with Emma Swan, the Sheriff of Storybrooke, but not this woman. They were strangers to one another, and strangers didn't banter, she had to remind herself.

"What were you thinking taking on a mugger on your own?" Emma challenged.

"You didn't seem to have a problem doing the same," Regina countered.

"Yeah, but I'm armed, and I deal with scum like that guy every day."

Regina shrugged, helpless without an answer that wouldn't mess everything up. "I couldn't stand by and do nothing."

"Where were you?" Henry prodded his birthmother, interrupting the rapid back and forth. "You didn't pick me up from school. I had to walk."

"I know, kid. I'm sorry." Emma raked her fingers through her blonde waves. "I was late getting out of a meeting at the precinct."

"Why didn't you call?" Regina winced when she realized she'd inserted herself into the conversation. She pressed her lips together. She kept speaking out loud without meaning to.

"He doesn't have a cell phone," Emma said, warily eyeballing the curious woman.

"He doesn't?"

"No. I'm of the mindset that I'd rather my son pay attention to his surroundings than stare all day at a screen."

"Then perhaps the gaming device wasn't a savvy purchase," Regina pointed out.

Emma snatched the portable gaming device out of her son's hands. "He's not supposed to be walking and playing this thing. Henry," she hissed, "how many times have I told you about that?"

The boy hung his head and his hair, which was longer than Regina remembered, fell into his eyes. "Sorry, Ma."

Emma's phone chirped in the back pocket of her jeans. She silenced it after looking at the screen.

"Was that Walsh?" Henry asked.

"Yeah. I'll call him back later," Emma noted absently.

"Who's Walsh?" Regina found herself asking.

"My mom's boyfriend," Henry interjected.

Regina sucked in a sharp breath that she hoped Emma didn't hear. It had been a year. Of course Emma would have found someone. That's what people did when they had a second chance, even if they weren't conscious that they had been given one.

"He's not—" Emma cut herself off. She and the furniture salesman had been dating for the better part of eight months. She didn't know why she had such a problem with labels like "boyfriend." Yes she did, she mentally chided herself. _Neal._ _Her parents._ When you gave someone a title, it gave them power to hurt you. There was only one significant label in her life—her son.

"We're having breakfast for dinner tonight," Henry chirped. "You should come."

Regina swallowed down her surging hope and joy. It felt like an ambush on her emotions.

"I'm sure she's got better things to do, Henry," Emma mumbled.

"I really don't." Regina felt a pink blush dust the apples of her cheeks. Her traitorous mouth was at it again. If she had had access to magic, she'd remove her own tongue.

"Oh, well, uh, do you … do you want to have dinner with us tonight?" Emma stammered. "It's the least I can do to thank you for coming to Henry's aid."

Regina looked between Henry and his birthmother. She could tell Emma was only extending the invitation because Henry had done so first and she couldn't take it back without being rude. She didn't want a pity invitation, but it was more time with Henry before she had to go back to Storybrooke.

Finally, she flashed a practiced, painted smile. "I'd love to come to dinner."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Happy holidays!

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

She'd faced countless challenges throughout her life and overcome every challenge with her special kind of determinism. Some might have even labeled it as obsession. But for perhaps the first time in her adult life, she was hesitating.

Regina stared up at the high-rise apartment complex and released a long, nervous breath. She'd driven by the building many times and had parked in front of it just as many. But as many times as she'd imagined pressing the call button to Henry and Emma's apartment, she'd never believed it would actually happen.

"Just go inside," she mumbled to herself. "Stop making excuses and go inside."

Her legs started to move, one foot in front of the other, until she was striding confidently across the street and smiling graciously at the uniformed doorman who held the front doors open for her entrance. Inside the apartment's front foyer, mailboxes lined the walls. Positioned near the last remaining barrier to the building-a final locked door-was a panel that listed the last name and apartment number for each resident. Regina looked for the name 'Swan,' but the space next to the apartment number she knew belonged to Emma Swan was blank.

"Old habits die hard," she murmured to herself.

Before she could second-guess her decision to accept Henry's dinner invitation, she pressed the white button next to the appropriate apartment number and waited.

"Who is it?" a voice crackled out.

Regina leaned toward the small speaker. "It's Regina."

"Who?"

Regina rolled her eyes. Emma Swan was as obnoxious as ever. "The woman who tried to save your son from a mugger earlier today?"

"Oh. Right." The main door buzzed unlocked. "Eleventh floor, last door on the right."

Regina chewed on the inside of her cheek as she waited for the elevator to arrive on the eleventh floor. When Emma had provided her with directions to the apartment, she'd had to pretend to write the address in her phone. She already knew where they lived, but she was eager to see inside of the two-bedroom apartment.

The elevator reached the eleventh floor in what Regina thought was record time. She stepped into the empty hallway, which smelled strongly of curry. The heels of her stilettos were muffled by the thin carpeting that covered the floor as she made her way down the hallway and stopped in front of the last door on the right.

Regina sighed. So many doors, so many barriers, each offering her an opportunity to flee. She heard movement on the other side of the door, and before she could even knock, the door was tugged open.

"Hey," Emma breathed in greeting.

Regina stood in the doorway, momentarily frozen with disorientation. Emma's hair was pulled back in a messy bun, away from her face, which had the affect of accentuating her cheekbones. She wore chunky black-rimmed glasses perched on her button nose, and a striped cotton apron protected the clothes she'd worn that day from whatever was producing magnificent scents coming from inside of the apartment. Pancake batter seemed to be splattered on the apron and a light dusting of the powdered mixture streaked her cheeks.

"You coming in?" Emma asked. She pushed a loose stand of hair away from her face.

Regina blinked once. When had she started wearing glasses? She'd never noticed contacts before. "Of course, yes."

She stepped through the doorway and took a moment to regain her bearings. The apartment was small, but clean and bright. The appliances in the kitchen were stainless steel and the recessed lighting provided the midtown apartment with a warm glow. There wasn't a proper dining room, but a table in the corner of the living area, plus the kitchen island was more than enough space as long as Emma didn't host elaborate dinner parties. Art hung on the walls and post-it notes and other reminders were on the refrigerator, giving the impression that life happened here.  
>Regina pressed a carton of orange juice into Emma's waiting hands. "Normally I'd bring a bottle of wine for the hostess," she explained, "but I thought this might be more appropriate with dinner."<p>

Emma held the orange juice container like it was a bottle of fine wine. "Thanks. This is great," she warmly smiled.

The TV was on in the open-plan living room and Henry's back was to the front door, playing some military video game Regina never would have allowed, especially knowing someone was coming over for dinner. The sounds of yelling and rapid gunshots streamed through the surround-sound stereo system.

"Kid," Emma barked over the violent noise. "Turn that thing off. We have company."

Regina allowed herself a small, private smile. Maybe Emma wasn't entirely without propriety. She heard the quiet grumble of her son, but with no more argument, he shut off the game and the television.

"Hey," Henry beamed, bounding toward the front door. "You made it!"

Regina felt awkward standing in the front foyer with her jacket still on, but Henry's effervescent smile made it all worth it. "Of course," she gently smiled. "It would have been rude to turn down a dinner invitation."

"Can I take your coat?" he offered, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. It was something he'd done nearly the moment he'd learned how to walk, like there was too much energy in his little body.

"Yes, thank you." Regina shrugged out of the wool trench and handed it over to the boy who seemed even taller than when she'd seen him earlier that afternoon. Henry opened a closet door and hung the jacket up inside.

Now without her jacket, Regina brushed at the front of her skirt. She hadn't known what to wear for the occasion, but the only clothes she's brought with her were of the mayoral variety. Her wardrobe was limited and in the end she'd settled on a patterned pencil skirt and button-up blouse whose dark blue color she wasn't too modest to admit made the dark hue of her hair practically iridescent.

Emma had retreated back into the kitchen and continued to attend to the food on the stovetop burners. Regina could detect the scent of bacon in the air, although she couldn't see any. Hashbrowns sizzled in a giant saucepan and a griddle on the kitchen island awaited the pancake batter sitting beside it in a mixing bowl.

"Can I help with something?" Regina asked, following the blonde into the kitchen. She leaned against the kitchen island and urged her heart to stop pounding so loudly in her chest.

"I've got it covered," Emma insisted. "Besides, what kind of hostess would I be if I put you to work?" She opened the oven door and grabbed a cookie sheet from the top shelf. The scent of bacon became more pronounced as Emma pulled out the cooking sheet layered with sizzling meat.

Henry immediately reached for one of the still too hot pieces of bacon, only to have Emma playfully slap the top of his hand. "Nuh uh, kid. Why don't you go set the table?"

"Okay." Henry hung his head, properly chastised. Regina resisted the urge to push the long hair away from her son's forehead. Her fingers flexed at her side with inactivity.

Regina watched fondly after the boy as he went to his task without any protest.

"So what's your story?" Emma asked.

Regina jerked her gaze away from the brown-haired teen. "Story?" she echoed, training her eyes instead on the woman in the kitchen.

"Yeah. Are you in the habit of accepting dinner invitations from strangers in dark alleyways?"

Regina bristled, unprepared for the question. She felt woefully unprepared for everything about this meal. "There's no story. I-I just didn't want to be rude and turn down the invitation," she repeated her explanation.

Emma pointed the spatula in her hand at Regina. "You're not from around here, are you? First the attempt to save my son when you should have ignored his being mugged, and now worrying about being rude. That's not typical New Yorker behavior."

"You're right. I'm in town for business." She hadn't thought much about constructing a believable backstory since she'd never planned on coming face-to-face with either of her current dinner companions.

"Where are you visiting from?"

"I'm sure you've never heard of it," Regina dismissed with a flick of her hair. "It's a tiny town in Maine."

Emma flashed the other woman a disarming smile. "Try me. I might surprise you."

Regina hesitated only briefly. "Storybrooke, Maine."

Emma slowly blinked. "Storybrooke." She let the syllables roll over her tongue.

Regina sucked in a sharp breath. Did Emma remember? Had the name of the tiny coastal town jogged her memory?

Emma shook her head. "You're right. Never heard of it."

Regina released the breath she'd been holding. She couldn't name the emotion rumbling around in the pit of her stomach. Relief? Disappointment? Or maybe she was just hungry.

"So what about you? What's your story? Are you in the habit of inviting strangers into your home for dinner?" Regina asked, shaking off her confusing reaction.

"No." Emma ducked her head in an endearing way that reminded Regina of Henry. "But technically it's breakfast."

Regina licked her painted lips. "True."

"Table's ready," Henry announced.

"Everything smells delicious, Emma." Honestly when she'd heard 'breakfast for dinner,' she had been expecting Eggos and cold cereal.

"I've got a few skills." Emma shrugged, but she looked pleased by the compliment.

"You should try her apple turnover," Henry chimed in. "It's amazing."

The corner of Regina's painted smile twitched. "Apple turnover?" Her voice nearly cracked.

"It's kind of like a pop tart," Emma explained.

Regina wanted to snap that she knew what an apple turnover was, but like every other instinct she had around this version of Emma Swan, she swallowed it down and smiled weakly instead.

"It sounds delicious."

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><p>The tears started the moment Regina shut the door of her hotel room. She'd done admirably she thought, reigning in her emotions through dinner, the awkward goodbye as she put her coat on, wanting to hug Henry, but settling on a handshake instead, and through the long taxi ride from Emma's apartment back to her rented room.<p>

Jacket and scarf still on, but now alone with her emotions, she could finally let the walls she'd built up crumble down.

She didn't have time for the tears streaming down her powdered cheeks to turn into body shaking sobs before her cell phone started to ring. Blind with grief, she wiped at her eyes so she could make out the number and who would be calling. But she already knew; only one person had this number.

"What do you want?" she barked into the phone.

She heard the sharp intake of air on the other line, and she instantly regretted losing her cool. Regina raked a shaky hand through her raven hair. "Hello, Snow."

"Regina, you have to come back."

"I'm not ready yet," she stubbornly protested.

Snow sighed into the phone. "I don't like it. You don't know what too much time outside of Storybrooke will do under this second curse."

Regina had been the only one who'd dared to cross the town line since she had been the only one from the Enchanted Forest not affected by the original curse. No one else had trusted what might happen if they crossed the line under the second curse.

"I'm being careful," Regina snapped, annoyance creeping into her tone.

"I don't care how careful you're being," Snow said, her voice rising to meet Regina's challenging tone. "The plan was to make sure they were okay and then come home."

"I know what the plan is-was-. But Emma has memories I didn't intend to give her."

"What?"

"At dinner tonight, Henry said-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Snow interrupted. "At dinner? We agreed you wouldn't talk to them. You're supposed to be observing from afar, Regina, not having dinner with them."

"Technically it was breakfast for dinner," Regina mumbled.

"You know what I mean!" Snow exclaimed. "Even though their memories have been altered, what you're doing is dangerous! You of all people know how unpredictable magic can be."

"Exactly. Which is why I need more time. The spell reacted in ways I didn't expect. I need to make sure that Henry will be okay."

"How is she?"

Regina shut her eyes. She could hear the trepidation in Snow's voice. "She's good. Really good."

"Really?" Snow's voice sounded damp.

Regina sighed deeply. "They both seem very happy. I think we did our children right for once, Snow. We gave them their best chance."

Regina could hear the tears over the phone line. "Thank you for that, Regina."

"I have to go," she said briskly, cutting the call short. She and Snow White weren't friends. They had too much history to ever be friends.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, all. I'm back! Thanks so much for your patience between updates as I finished up my latest novel, **_**Fragmented. **_**You can find more information about it and my other original releases at my website, elizalentzski dot com.**

**Hope you enjoy this update. Let me know your thoughts!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<br>**  
>After hanging up with Snow, Regina went through her nightly rituals to prepare for bed. She pulled her hair away from her face with an elastic headband, washed away the makeup from the day, and brushed and flossed her teeth. She had remained untouched by Father Time for decades. Now, unprotected by the curse, Time was the only thing she feared these days. She should have enjoyed more vices when she had the chance, she thought to herself.<p>

Outside of her hotel room on the thirty-first floor, New York was still abuzz with activity. Even from this elevated level, she could hear the sounds of the city below: the annoyed honk of a taxi cab, the random cheer of a group of people. Through the blinds she could still make out the flashing lights of Time Square reflecting off the mirrored exterior of adjacent skyscrapers.

Once in bed, Regina stared up at the ceiling. Her mind was too busy for sleep. Now that she had made direct contact with Emma and Henry, all of the words of warning Snow and David had hammered into her head were re-surfacing. They had entrusted her to cross the town line to check in on their respective children, but she wasn't supposed to have had pancakes with them. The Charmings should have known better than to trust her with this.

The temptation to spend more stolen time with Henry had been too great, however, and she'd never had a particular talent for denying herself that which she desired. But magic always came with a price; re-connecting with her son would have consequences.

In the morning there was something she had to do. It would be unpleasant, and if Emma ever found out … Well, she wouldn't worry about that now. The only thing that mattered was Henry. She pulled the comforter under her chin and willed herself to sleep.

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><p>She hadn't known what exactly she'd been expecting, but this certainly wasn't it. Natural light flooded through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the two-story Williamsburg furniture store. The stately brick building had once been a factory of some kind at the turn of the century, but it had been gutted since then, and now featured custom, handmade furniture.<p>

Regina ran her lacquered fingernails along the polished curve of an elaborate wooden dining room chair. Living in the Enchanted Forest, she had come into contact with talented wood workers. Her own taste for interior design and decor was impeccable like everything she did. Whomever had crafted the furniture on display had real talent. It was too bad that person turned out to be Emma Swan's boyfriend.

A simple internet search for New York, furniture, and Walsh had provided Regina with the directions to an Oscar Walsh's furniture store. Regina had discovered that the man who went by his last name was a skilled artisan, but what kind of man was he? Armed with a pencil skirt, red-soled stilettos, and a fitted dress shirt unbuttoned to the third button, it was Regina's intention to find out.

"Can I help you?"

Regina looked up from the wooden chair and pasted on a dazzling smile. "I certainly hope so."

Oscar Walsh wasn't much to look at. Tall, angular, narrow shouldered, and gaunt in the face, he looked more like a scarecrow than a man. _Really, Miss Swan? Out of the million partners available in this city and this is with whom you've chosen to align yourself?_

Given she and Emma's mutual attraction to Graham, Regina had assumed they had comparable taste in men. Perhaps the fake memories Regina had magicked into Emma's brain had scattered her taste in men.

Regina stuck out her hand. "Regina Mills," she introduced herself.

Walsh took her hand in his boney, long-fingered one. "Oscar Walsh. It's nice to meet you. What can I help you find today?"

Regina twisted her mouth into a helpless look. "I'm in the market for an office desk, but I have very particular tastes."

Walsh shoved his hands into the front pockets of his corduroy pants and rocked back on his heels. "We have a good variety on the second floor, but if none of them strikes your fancy, we could always custom design something."

"Custom?" Regina echoed. "Who does all your custom work?"

"Me. This is my store, and I do all the construction and design myself."

Regina clasped her hands together. "That's quite impressive."

Walsh ducked his head, and shaggy brown hair fell into his eyes. Regina frowned at the modest reaction. This was no man. This was a foolish boy. Certainly not a strong father-figure for her son.

"Would you have time to show me what's available?" Regina asked, sure to flutter her long eyelashes. "I'd love to get the tour from the man who actually made all of these beautiful things."

"Of course." Walsh bobbed his head. "They're on the second floor." He swept his hand in a guiding gesture. "Right this way."

Regina's high heels clicked on the flooring on the way to the escalator. She could hear the rubber soles of Walsh's step behind her.

"This is an impressive operation," Regina observed over one shoulder. She tried to keep an open mind about the man, but she couldn't understand what Emma saw in the understated man. Compared to the lovers Regina had taken to bed in her days as Queen, Walsh wouldn't have been on her radar.

"Thanks."

"Not too many people nowadays say they want to make furniture when they grow up," Regina remarked as they ascended the escalator together. "How did you get into the business?"

"I suppose it kind of fell into my lap," Walsh shrugged. "I've been doing it for so long, it's hard to pinpoint the origin."

Regina made a humming noise and pretended to inspect the available merchandise on the second floor although she had no intention of actually buying anything. Under different context she might have been tempted, but it wasn't as though a delivery truck would have been able to navigate its way into Storybrooke now with the second curse in place.

She frowned at the memory. Surrounded by the sights and sounds of New York, it was too easy to forget that she had a mystery to solve when she returned. What had happened to their missing year? Why couldn't she remember? And how come they were back in Storybrooke?

Regina ran her hand along the smooth, level plane of a mahogany desk. "Very nice," she approved. "I love a man with skilled hands." She spun on her heel abruptly, nearly bumping into the man following closely behind her. "It's so rare to find nowadays. Everyone is so reliant on computers and robots."

A lopsided grin came to Walsh's face. "You won't find any of that stuff in my workshop."

"Oh, I'd love to see where you work." She flicked the tip of her tongue against her bottom lip. "I'm sure it's absolutely fascinating."

"It's not that interesting; just a bunch of old tools."

_You're the only Tool I currently see._

"So what do you think?" Walsh asked. "See anything you like?"

"I see potential," Regina purred. She deliberately dragged her eyes up and down the man's body, repressing a shudder as she did so. "But like I said—I have particular tastes."

"Could I interest you in custom work?" he asked. "Maybe we could go over some ideas for a design?"

Regina frowned, nearly pouting. "Would you be available to meet with me after hours? I'm not in town for very long, and I have a very busy schedule."

"I, uh, I don't usually—"

Regina cut him off. "I'll make it worth your while," she said, grabbing onto his skinny bicep. "My hotel has a lovely penthouse bar. Very cozy. Why don't we meet there later and put our heads together on this?" She didn't let go of Walsh's arm. "Oh my," she gushed. "Your arm is rock solid."

"I, uh, it's from the wood working."

"Oh, from what I've seen, I'm sure you know how to handle that wood." _This was ridiculous. _"Say you'll meet me later."

"I, um, yeah. I could do that."

"Fantastic. I'll see you there, around eight." She squeezed his bicep once more for good measure. "Don't keep me waiting, Mr. Walsh."

A wide grin adorned the man's face, and he eagerly nodded his head.

Regina flipped her hair out of her eyes and made her way towards the furniture store's exit. She didn't have to look back to know that Walsh was watching her and the slight sway of her hips and backside as she left.

He was, after all, only a man.

* * *

><p>Regina dialed the ten-digit number into her phone and waited for the call to be picked up.<p>

"Emma Swan, here."

"Miss Swan? This is Regina Mills—"

"Regina. Hi." Emma laughed on the other line. "Are you always so formal?"

"Usually, yes," she admitted.

"What can I do for you?" Emma asked. "Need me to track down some scumbag who owes you money?"

"Nothing as exciting as that, I'm afraid. Would you be free to meet me for a drink later? I know it's probably an inconvenience of me to even be asking, but I've had a long day of meetings, and I really don't like the idea of drinking by myself."

"Henry's good to watch himself for a little while. I suppose I could slip away for a drink while he's doing homework."

"That would be lovely. I'm afraid I'm not too familiar with this city yet though. How about meeting me at the bar in my hotel?"

She clutched her phone and awaited Emma's reply.

* * *

><p>Regina had chosen the Manhattan hotel for its proximity to Henry's school and the apartment he shared with his birth mother. It also happened to have a lovely rooftop bar and lounge that was open through all the seasons. The bar was partitioned in half with one section open air and the other part a glass-enclosed lounge. In the current winter chill, all of the fire pits were aflame and portable heaters dotted the square footage of the penthouse bar. Taking advantage of the numerous fireplaces and other fire features, Regina sat at a small table, nursing an apple martini. It was no cider, but it was alcohol, and it settled her nerves as she clock watched.<p>

A flash of blonde caught her attention and she watched Emma Swan make an appearance. Their eyes locked, and Emma waved in her direction. Unbidden, Regina found herself smiling and waving back.

Regina couldn't ignore the carefree look on Emma's face as she crossed the rooftop to join her. Without the unbearable weight of the Hero Complex, the blonde looked years younger. And Henry had looked so happy and content with his new life and memories, she'd wanted to pull out her own heart to not feel the pain of it. She was happy, naturally, that he was so well settled in his new life, but she couldn't deny the sadness that came from knowing she hadn't been able to provide that same level of joy for him when he'd lived in Storybrooke with her.

"This is awfully fancy," Emma observed in lieu of a proper greeting as she took in their surroundings. "What exactly is it that you do?"

"Politics. I'm the mayor of a small town in Maine."

"Mayor?" Emma whistled lowly. "You've been holding out on me. You should have told me I was in the presence of royalty."

"Storybrooke is very small," Regina dismissed. "It's really not a big deal."

"Storybrooke? That sounds made up."

"I can assure you it's very much a real place."

Regina admired the view when Emma removed her black wool coat to reveal the sapphire blue dress hidden beneath. It was a far cry from the tight jeans, leather boots, and Henley tops she was more accustomed to seeing her sheriff in. Her hair also looked more curly than usual and there was a touch of red on her lips.

"That's a lovely dress," Regina admired. "The color matches your eyes."

Emma looked down at her body as though she'd forgotten she was wearing the outfit. "Yeah, well when you told me where you were staying, I thought I should clean up a bit."

Regina's gaze traveled down Emma's body from her confined breasts, down her tight abdomen, and swept across how the dress's material clung to Emma's hips.

"You clean up well," Regina murmured.

Regardless of her personal distaste for Emma Swan over the years, Regina could admit the other woman's body was enviable. More upsetting was the transfat and cholesterol Emma routinely ingested, without it adversely affecting her figure.

She raised a hand and a waiter arrived at her elbow. "What are you having? Scotch? Whiskey?"

"Uh, no." Emma snatched the laminated drink menu off the tabletop and gave it a cursory scan. "I thought maybe I'd go for a cabernet."

"I'm sorry." Regina frowned. "I don't know why I thought you were a bourbon drinker." She could have sworn hard alcohol, not wine, was Emma Swan's drink of choice.

"I'm a little rough around the edges, I know," Emma laughed. She self-consciously touched her curled locks. "Don't let the gun and hard exterior fool you though, I'm all girl."

Regina cleared her throat. "Well thank you again for meeting up with me, Miss Swan. I really do hope I'm not putting you out."

"It's still just Emma," the blonde woman gently corrected. "And you're not putting me out at all. I'm actually glad you called. I can't remember the last time I was out with an adult."

"What about your boyfriend? Walsh, was it?"

"I said 'adult,'" Emma said with a cheeky grin. "Walsh is a great guy, but all the men I've ever dated seem to have a Peter Pan Complex."

"They don't want to grow up," Regina hummed.

"What about you?" Emma asked. "Are you married? Boyfriend?"

Regina shook her head. "No. I'm very much single."

"Who's the as whole who broke your heart?"

Regina lifted an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I recognize that look when I asked if you were married," Emma said. "There was a guy once, but now there's not. So who broke your heart?"

Regina wet her lips and worked to keep her tone even and unaffected. "I can assure you my heart is very much in one piece."

Emma grinned and leaned back in her chair. "Suit yourself, but I know you're not telling me the complete truth. I can tell when people are lying."

"Your Super Power," Regina said without thinking.

Emma chuckled. "That's funny. That's exactly what I call it. Weird."

Regina swallowed hard. She hoped Emma wouldn't dwell on her slip up or catch her in a lie. "That must be quite the gift. I wish I could tell when people were lying."

"It's been a necessity over the years. Before Walsh came along, it was just me and Henry for a long time. Lots of assholes in the world who would like to take advantage of a single mom and her kid. I had to be vigilant. Henry's the most important thing in my life." Emma's cheeks colored. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get carried away."

"Don't apologize." Regina smiled warmly. "Your commitment and dedication to Henry is admirable."

"Do you have any kids?"

Regina dropped her gaze to the table and fiddled with the glass stem of her funnel-shaped drink. "Once upon a time."

The other woman must have sensed she'd stumbled onto uncomfortable territory, so she quickly changed the subject. "So how long are you in town for?"

Regina looked back up and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "I'm really not sure. I had thought it would be a quick business trip, but circumstances have changed that will be keeping me in this city for a little longer. I'm glad you could meet up with me tonight, though. I was worried you'd be busy."

Emma snorted. "Where else would I be on a Tuesday night? Henry's got school in the morning."

"You could have been out with your boyfriend," Regina pointed out. She didn't like the way the final word caught in her throat.

"Naw, he's catching up on paperwork for his business tonight."

"Paperwork. Hmmm." Regina leaned forward, feigning interest. "He owns a furniture store, is that correct?"

"Yeah. That's how we met. Henry and I had just moved to town, and I needed to furnish our apartment." Her eyes focused on something or someone just beyond Regina's right shoulder. "Speak of the devil," Emma murmured.

"What was that, dear?"

Emma raised her voice. "Walsh?"

The stick-thin man who'd been standing at a distance and scanning the rooftop, jerked his gaze in the direction of the voice. "Emma!"

"What are you doing here? I thought you had to work tonight?" she called to him.

"I-I…" Regina felt the man's eyes fall on her. His features scrunched in confusion, and Regina raised an eyebrow while her painted lips twisted into a cruel smirk.

"I got done early," he said. "I wanted to surprise you; Henry said I'd find you here."

Emma's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I didn't tell Henry where I'd be?"

Walsh scratched at the back of his neck, looking all the world like he wanted to disappear. "You didn't? Huh. That kid must be an even better detective than you."

"What's with the fancy duds?" Emma prodded. "Did I forget an anniversary or something?"

Walsh tugged at his suit jacket. "No. I had a meeting today." The man had changed clothes from earlier that day. Gone was the denim shirt and corduroy, replaced with a fitted suit. He wore no tie around his neck, and the dress shirt was open at the throat.

"With the President?" Emma questioned.

Regina leaned back in her chair and smiled. For once it was nice not being the recipient of Sheriff Swan's Twenty Questions. Her skepticism had made her superb at her job, and Regina felt not an ounce of sympathy for the furniture store owner.

"You're a bit overdressed yourself," Walsh returned.

"Only because I didn't want to stick out like a sore thumb in this place," Emma defended.

"Well maybe I was doing the same," her boyfriend deflected.

As much as Regina was enjoying the animated back and forth, she didn't enjoy being ignored. "I don't believe we've met," she interrupted.

Walsh's gaze snapped to land on her face. "What?"

"Regina," she said coolly, extending her hand. "Regina Mills."

Walsh carefully took the pro-offered hand. "It's nice to meet you, Regina. I'm Walsh. Emma's boyfriend." Not taking his eyes off the raven-haired woman, he grabbed a nearby chair. "Mind if I join you ladies?" The legs scratched against the concrete of the rooftop flooring. Regina winced at the ugly sound as the man positioned himself between Emma and herself.

"So what's the story here?" he asked, briskly rubbing his hands together for warmth.

"I was meeting Regina here for an after-work drink," Emma said, returning to her own seat.

"How do you two know each other? I don't believe I've heard you mention a 'Regina' before."

"We don't know each other," Regina supplied. "Not really."

Walsh's heavy eyebrows bunched together.

"Henry was nearly mugged on his way home from school yesterday," Emma stated. "Regina intercepted before anything bad could happen."

"Stop. You make me sound like a super hero," Regina chuckled in her low rasp.

"The way you confronted that guy in the alley, I nearly thought you had super powers. You should have seen her," Emma said. "Jimmy Choos and a Prada bag, thinking she could take on some punk from Brooklyn."

Walsh pressed his lips together. "I'm sorry I missed it."

"I nearly missed it, too. If I'd shown up on time, Henry wouldn't have been in that alley," Emma said glumly.

Regina rested her hand on top of Emma's and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't beat yourself up about it, dear," she soothed. "Henry's fine."

"I need a drink," Walsh blurted out. He stood up, nearly toppling his chair over. "I'll be back."

"O-o-k," Emma said, a pale eyebrow rising on her forehead. "Yeah, so that's Walsh," she sighed, her eyes following her retreating boyfriend.

Regina leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. "He seems charming."

"Usually more so," Emma noted, her eyes still tracking Walsh who now stood at the inside bar, trying to catch the attention of the bartender.

"If you'll excuse me," Regina said as she stood from the table. "I'm just going to freshen up in the powder room."

Regina was privately pleased at how flustered Emma's boyfriend was behaving. She had sought the man out that morning to ascertain if he was good enough to be in Henry's life, but based on her interactions with him today and his arrival at the hotel bar, she was going to make it her mission to split up the happy couple.

Regina spotted Emma's paramour near the bar's bathrooms. She saw the man's barely checked anger simmered just beneath the surface. Regina knew that look well. It was her own anger from which her magic stemmed. She tilted her chin up and drew back her shoulders, readying a biting insult.

She had expected backlash from the man for her subterfuge, but not physical aggression. His palms connected flat against her shoulders and she found herself being shoved against a wall. She made a noise of protest as the back of her head and her backside smacked against a wall.

Walsh leaned in menacingly, so close Regina could count the freckles on his nose. "I haven't figured out what your game is, lady, but I'm on to you."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Regina feigned ignorance.

"We'll see about that." His eyes flashed a neon green. Regina thought at first it was a trick of light, but immediately suspected something was amiss. "Stay away from Emma," Walsh growled menacingly, "whoever you are."

Regina straightened her shoulders and tugged at the bottom of her blazer. "I believe that's up for Emma to decide, not you."

The man looked like he had more to say, but thinking better of it, he snarled and turned on his heel in a hasty exit.

In her own realm or in Storybrooke, fear was not an emotion Regina permitted. But in this place without magic, she realized just how vulnerable she was. She'd been physically accosted twice in this city in as many days. Snow and Charming had urged her to be efficient with her time beyond the town boundary, but her stubborn pride had gotten in the way of her taking their words of caution seriously.

When she had composed herself, Regina returned to the table to find Emma sitting alone with their empty glasses.

"What happened to your boyfriend?" Regina asked with mock innocence, taking an empty chair beside the other woman. "Don't tell me he had to cut his evening short."

Emma frowned and swirled the dregs of her drink in the bottom of her wine glass. "He left. It's okay though. He was acting weird."

"Oh dear. I hope there's no problems in paradise." Fake genuineness wrapped around Regina like an old friend.

"Paradise." Emma laughed ruefully and shook her head. "Honestly I wonder sometimes why I even bother. It's always just been me and Henry, and we like it that way." She paused and ran her finger along the rim of her glass. "Although it can be lonely when your only company is a teenaged boy."

Regina knew that only too well, but she had no way to verbally commiserate without risking revealing too much.

"Sorry," Emma apologized and shook her head. "This probably isn't the evening you had in mind when you invited me."

"Quite the opposite, my dear, but you saved me from another night of mindless television." She cocked her head to one side when she saw Emma's lips moving, but heard no words. "What's that?"

Emma's parted lips moved again. "I'm your savior."

"I-I guess so."

Emma's speech patterns, the phrases and sayings she used, sometimes made Regina think the memory spell she'd put on Emma and her son wasn't as strong as she'd thought-like her memories of Storybrooke were bubbling just below her consciousness. Or maybe the enchantment was weakening with time in this world without magic or with Regina's continued presence. But as long as those emerald eyes continued to stare blankly back at her, she was safe.

Regina settled their tab despite Emma's protest.

"I'll walk you back to your room," Emma offered.

"That's really not necessary."

"It's New York," Emma said, slipping into her wool coat. "Creeps come out of the woodwork even in a classy place like this."

Regina thought about Walsh and the flash of neon green that had momentarily illuminated his eyes. "Okay," she conceded.

They made friendly small-talk on the short elevator ride down to Regina's floor. Regina asked questions about Emma's life, although she knew all the answers and had even been responsible for some of the memories that Emma shared. For herself, she remained just vague enough in her answers to not get herself in trouble, but provided enough detail not to rouse Emma's suspicions.

Regina stopped in front of her hotel room door and fished the keycard out of her clutch purse. "Thank you for seeing me to my room."

"It's no problem," Emma dismissed. "It's probably silly of me, but I know I'll sleep a lot better tonight knowing you made it back to your room safely."

"That's very chivalrous of you," Regina remarked. She found Emma's concern touching, but also curious.

Emma's hand reached for her face, and Regina flinched.

"Sorry." Emma clenched and unclenched her hand that continued to hover in the air. "There's something in your hair."

"Oh."

Emma leaned in closer and carefully removed a bit of something from Regina's raven locks.  
>"There," she murmured, lingering too close than Regina thought proper.<p>

Regina stared at the thoughtful, emerald green eyes. From this proximity, she could detect Emma's light perfume.

"Is that drywall or plaster?" Emma worked the material between her thumb and forefinger. "Were you at a construction site or something?"

Regina touched her hair in the place Emma's hand had just been. She must have hit her head harder than she thought to have knocked debris from the wall. "Who knows how these things happen."

Breaking the temporary spell she found herself under, Regina unlocked and opened her hotel room. Her manicured fingers curled around the door's edge. "Would you like to come in? To make sure there's no monsters hiding beneath my bed?"

"Oh, I should probably get going. Henry will be…waiting."

Regina bit down on her lower lip. "Mmhmm."

"Well, have-have a good night, Regina," Emma stuttered. She appeared unwontedly awkward as though she didn't know how to say goodbye.

"You as well, Miss Swan."

Regina entered her hotel room and shut the door behind her. She leaned against the back of the door and released a long breath. She closed her eyes and the visual of Emma leaning towards her played on the backs of her eyelids. What had just happened? She had wanted to kiss Emma. _She had wanted to be kissed by Emma Swan._

Walsh's words from dinner echoed in her head. What _was_ her game? At this point, she had no idea.

TBC


End file.
